


New beginnings

by Stellacarlberg



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Hurt Grantaire, M/M, One Shot, brief mentions of violence, brief mentions of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellacarlberg/pseuds/Stellacarlberg
Summary: ”My chief”. Grantaire’s voice was dry with sarcasm, and Enjolras was sure that if he turned around he would see Grantaire taking a bow in mock salute. ”To what do I owe the pleasure of your graceful company?””What have you done to your face?”* * *Dialogue prompt: "I find that answer vague and unconvincing"http://rmeisel.tumblr.com/post/169070413013/dialogue-prompts





	New beginnings

Enjolras didn’t notice Grantaire at first. He had been busy discussing pamphlets with Jehan, and going over his speech with Combeferre. The Corinth had been a hive of movement, everybody buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the rally that was planned for tomorrow. Well, for today, really, given the time. Joly had fallen asleep, spread out on a table with Cosette resting on his shoulder. Combeferre didn’t last five minutes without taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Bossuet was sitting at a table, furiously writing notes on a pamphlet while yawning and being awfully close to spilling the bottle of beer placed beside his arm. The rest of the bar was dark, only a few lamps being responsible for any of them actually seeing anything at all. Musichetta was wiping down tables, making sure everything was ready for closing.

”It is good”, said Combeferre, handing the speech back to Enjolras who took it with a look of restrained annoyance.  
”’Good’ is not going to make a change”, he snapped. A rush of exhaustion suddenly rolled over him, and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t being fair, it wasn’t Combeferre’s fault Enjolras wasn’t happy with the speech. He glanced, somewhat regretfully, up at Combeferre.  
”There is nothing you can do about it now, anyway”, his friend reasoned. ”The rally is too soon to make any big changes. If you did you would have to stay upp the rest of the night”. His eyes narrowed, carefully looking at Enjolras. ”You aren’t planning on staying up all night, are you?”  
Enjolras shook his head without saying anything. The night had been long, and he would need all his strength tomorrow.  
”Okay”, Combeferre said, his voice mild. Then he turned to the rest of the group, his voice suddenly becoming more authorial. ”Time to go home, everybody. It’s late and you all need to be well-rested tomorrow”. The rest of the students made sounds of gratitude and started packing up.

Bossuet folded his notes and handed them to Enjolras with a smile before walking up to the sleeping Joly, who was already being gently awakened by Musichetta. Combeferre rose to get his and Courfeyrac’s coats, while simultaneously telling Enjolras that he could get a ride home with them if he wished.  
In the midst of gathering notes, pamphlets, pens and other belongings, Enjolras caught sight of another figure, as unmoving as Joly was at the moment. He sat in one corner, quietly observing them with his hood pulled up to cover most of his face. So, Grantaire had arrived. How long had he been here? An hour, or perhaps only five minutes? Had he helped at all in their work for justice? Had he cared enough to do anything, or had he simply watched them as they had all gotten more and more tired as the night went on?

Grantaire’s gaze wandered around the room, stopping at Enjolras every so often, blinking lazily at him. It felt like a taunt. Enjolras, despite his longing for a bed, narrowed his eyes like a cat spotting a prey.

People got up, bid their farewells, and made plans to get everybody home safe. Grantaire stopped looking at Enjolras in favour of grinning up at Joly and Bossuet, who were arguing about who should drive home (”You have been drinking!” ”And five minutes ago you were sleeping so deeply I thought you had gone into a coma!”) Enjolras saw Eponine and Bahorel walk up to Grantaire, jackets in hand. 

Enjolras, huffing in annoyance, put his last notes in his binder and grabbed his bag. As he walked towards Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who were waiting for him near the door, he managed to grasp a few words being said from Grantaire’s corner.

”-not gonna lie R, you look like shit”.  
”Thanks, ’ponine, it means a lot”, came Grantaire’s sarcastic reply. Enjolras glanced back and saw him leaning against a wall, eyes closed and shadows covering his face..  
”She’s right”, Bahorel said while grabbing his last unfinished beer bottle and taking a swig. ”Who was it, anyway? I hope you got a few good punches in, as well”.  
“I’ll be fine, I will fix it when I get home”.  
Curious as to what the trio was talking about, Enjolras now completely turned and took a step towards them. The lights came into the right angle, making Grantaire’s face visible in the semi-dark room.

His hair, now that is wasn’t being covered by his hood, was wilder than ever, spreading around his face like a black halo of curls. It was matted with sweat. Around his left eye was a dark, purple bruise already forming. His bottom lip was swollen. His whole face looked as though he had been run over, twice.  
”Enj, you coming?”  
Enjolras spun around, barely registering Combeferre’s and Courfeyrac’s wondering faces before he shook his head.  
”No, I think I’ll be a little longer. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bahorel and Eponine passed him, dragging Combeferre and Courfeyrac out of the door before they could get a chance to say anything else than ”text us when you get home safe”.  
The door closed behind them, leaving the room dark and quiet. Musichetta was in the other room, counting the register by the sound of coins tumbling against each other.

”My chief”. Grantaire’s voice was dry with sarcasm, and Enjolras was sure that if he turned around he would see Grantaire taking a bow in mock salute. ”To what do I owe the pleasure of your graceful company?”

”What have you done to your face?”, Enjolras asked, too shocked to remember how to be polite. He twisted around, facing Grantaire who was looking defiantly at him, his chin raised high and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

”Do forgive me, fearless leader, if I do not live up to your expectation of male beauty. That being said, I believe that if you were to spend some more time with me you would get used to my face, whatever I may have done to it”.

”You are mocking me”, Enjolras stated plainly, taking a couple of steps forward, stopping when he saw Grantaire coil up like he was waiting for an attack. 

”Tell me the truth, Grantaire. What happened?”

The bruise made Grantaire’s green eyes stand out more, like a spring-leaf laying on dirt. ”I don’t think that is anything I am obligated, nor willing, to disclose”. His look was hard, looking straight at Enjolras, daring him to say anything else on the matter. Of course, Enjolras was always up for the challenge.

”Someone has hurt you.”  
”How do you know I did not hurt them first?”  
”Because then you would be boasting, not hiding”.  
A ghost of a smile flickered over Grantaire’s swollen lip. ”Maybe you think too little of me”.

Another wave of exhaustion hit Enjolras, making him sag his shoulder and close his eyes. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, he had been working all day. He did not need this right now. Why did he care, anyway? It was not like Grantaire couldn’t take care of himself. But he still couldn’t make himself walk away. Not yet, he needed to know what had happened first.

”Don’t lie to me. Please”.  
Grantaire’s face looked as if it was bathed in gold, reflecting the mild light from the lamp on the table. His eyes rested on Enjolras, as if trying to decide if he could be trusted with the secret.

”I fell”.  
”You fell?”  
”I fell. It was stupid, really, I feel as though I am Bossuet, tripping on air-”  
”I find that answer vague and unconvincing”.  
Grantaire stopped talking. The green eyes grew somewhat distant, and he stood still. Enjolras stepped forward.  
“Can I look at it?”  
He was slowly nearing Grantaire, as you would near a wounded animal who tended to become aggressive when in pain. He didn’t rush, making sure Grantaire had plenty of time to back away if he wanted to. Grantaire was still as Enjolras took another step forward. He didn’t breathe as Enjolras let his finger ghost over the bruise.  
”Who hurt you?”  
Grantaire swallowed. His eyes didn’t leave Enjolras’. But he was still quiet.

After a moment or so, Enjolras sighed. He let his hand fall to his side again, and felt as if his heart was doing the same. He tried to hide his disappointment as he turned on his heel and started walking towards the door. He had grabbed his bag and was just about to leave when a small voice behind him said, ”It was for you”.  
Enjolras stopped, and slowly turned around, not knowing if he had heard correctly.  
”I’m sorry?”  
Grantaire looked like he wanted to run out of the door but found himself glued to the floor. 

”There was this guy, earlier tonight”, he said, voice somewhat cold and distant, his eyes fixed on Enjolras. ”He was being a grade A asshole. Eponine would probably have taken him if I hadn’t gotten to him first. He was ranting about how politics was a waste of his time, that everything was good enough as it was. You know the type, privileged man refusing to see that he is privileged.”  
Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows. Grantaire continued, words pouring out like he wanted to rip the bandage off quickly.

”And then he started talking about how he had found a pamphlet”. Grantaire glanced at Enjolras’ bag, which was full of flyers and posters that promoted their cause. ”For a rally, tomorrow. Apparently he knew us, at least he had some things to say about us. About you, too. He… Well, let’s just say he won’t be signing up to receive our newsletter.”

”So, you punched him?”

Grantaire grinned tiredly, the first sign of a real emotion for a good few minutes.  
”I thought you already had figured out, Apollo, that I didn’t take the first swing. No, I actually tried to reason with him using my mouth instead of my fists, if you can believe it. Not that it worked out, so perhaps next time I might have to take a leaf out of dear Bahorel’s book and just go for the nose first thing.”

A new, warm feeling started spreading in Enjolras. He couldn’t explain it, for it was something he himself could not out his finger on. Warmth and shiver at the same time, a feeling of being drunk as the room spun when he tried to sort his thoughts out.  
”You…” Enjolras started, then shook his head disbelievingly. Nothing made sense. Grantaire got hurt, in order to stand up for their cause, to stand up for Enjolras.  
”I never thought you would do something like that for us. For our cause”.  
Grantaire nodded slowly, looking down at the wooden floor. ”Neither did I, if we are being honest. But, vive la révolution, am I right? I am with them. I am with you”.

When they left the Corinth much later, having been kicked out by Musichetta (”Honestly, if you two don’t get out of here in the next two minutes I am going to lock you inside and you will have to sleep on this floor tonight”) they were walking slowly along the deserted street. Leaves were falling around them, a mild breeze whispered in the trees as if nature itself was trying to cling to summer. But autumn was coming, brisk and clear. Change was around the corner.  
When they kissed, gently to not hurt Grantaire further, it felt like a promise of a new beginning.

”Will you come tomorrow?”  
”I believe I will.”  
”For the cause?”  
”For you”.

**Author's Note:**

> "Where is Feuilly???" No one knows
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment of what you think :)


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